


Shaman Kid

by MrHooty



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Coming of Age, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn, gaara picks the wrong person to get involved with and it takes years to happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-11-29 22:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrHooty/pseuds/MrHooty
Summary: One of the only rules provided to them in order to complete their mission was that they absolutely could not pick the shaman kid.





	1. Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been years since I've written a fic with an OC in it but, I've had a lot of fun writing it so far and I hope you like it. I don't know how many chapters I'll write, I have three so far including this one and I just want you to know I apologize ahead of time for the confusing pronouns I just really want an embarrassing gender reveal even tho we all know I'm not fooling anyone.

The trek up the side of the mountain will take days to complete, and from what they’ve been informed, the cave sits nearest the top. There’s supposed to be some sort of village near a Cliffside around the western face, and here they will request the assistance of a few locals in order to find it. Something about some mystical force, concealing its whereabouts. Only bypassed by those who have lived alongside it for years on end. Whether they believe this or not, their contractor doesn’t care to know. The job is to locate, extract the valuables, and hand them off as instructed. It’s supposed to be simple, the suggested due date will be a week from today. But Temari projects they can halve that.

This is the reason they have made this trip alone, unsupervised by their sensei.

Simple enough.

“Should be a quarter mile from here,” Temari says, glancing up and down the path they’re following. “We can get some rest, regroup, figure out how we’re gonna pull this off.”

The weather is nice, a soft breeze lifts up under the leaves and cools the sweat that’s accumulated from their hike. Without the rancid smell of the more industrialized network of villages at the base of the mountain, the foliage surrounding them on almost all sides comes sharp. Pervasive. Impossible to ignore. It creates the dual sensation of comfort, and alienation. They are not accustomed to this. The shade underneath the trees beckons, as it should. But without the need to heed its call.

Kankuro swipes at his brow and as such, he smears the paint he has layered thick upon his face. “I need a shower,” he replies with a sigh.

The humidity up here is awful, and paired with how thin the air is it becomes unbearable to be here.

“There,” Temari points, and it takes a moment for her brothers to find what she’s found.

The trees crowd thick, it is only through the barest cracks the first signs of human life are visible. Some sort of architecture, unnatural. Very obviously manmade. There’s this wood building, shimmering under the afternoon sun. There’s chittering, but it could just be some birds hidden away in the green. It is enough sign for them.

The buildings are scattered at first, each crafted out of the surrounding trees and finished to a shine. They are topped with tightly weaved bamboo roofs, rudimentary to the point of contempt. The older siblings glance at one another, almost certain that what they’ll be met with will be less than pleasant. Some antiquated system. Spewing nonsense. Believing so completely in the mystiques they will leave no room for debate. But the deeper they wander, the more open the area becomes. The path more distinguishable. The homes they come upon are intricate, beautiful. There is fruit growing in small gardens wherever the soil holds, mindfully tended to if the color says anything.

This is about the time they run into the first of them, some toddler stumbling out into the open naked and giggling. Their mother, swooping in behind them to finish the bath, and catching sight of the three across the way.

She is dressed in pretty shawls, jewels decorating her from the necklaces looped down her chest to the bracelets up to her forearms. There are rings on her fingers, and paint on her face. Her hair looks like silk, coiled into a bun with an elegant pin. Her first reaction upon seeing them is to smile invitingly.

“Is there someone around we can speak to?” Temari asks, coming forward when nobody makes the move to. “A... An elder, perhaps?”

It’s hard to tell what the lingo here is, how regressed this village truly is. They were told it’d been largely untouched by the new world developments, and by the lady’s attire this isn’t hard to believe. Only exposure will tell, and they don’t have much time on their hands as is.

“Follow this path,” the woman tells them, holding her child close. “At the heart of the village, you will find help.”

The heart of the village is a sort of marketplace, with much activity rolling through. On the outskirts is the cliff, the houses built there scant and sturdy. Everyone is dressed most similarly, shawls and robes and breathable fabric. One way or another, they are a highly decorative people. Some covered head to toe in ink, and others adorned with jewelry. They gleam under the sun prettily, golden brown skin and sleek dark hair and pearly teeth. The siblings amble about inquiring after some sort of leader among them and when they finally find him, they are taken aback.

Some tall, looming man with piercings in the face. He is squatted in this modest home with clay pots lined outside, and doesn’t look at all surprised when they tell him why they’re there.

“I’d heard something about that,” he replies, waving them into his home almost indifferently. Incense is burning somewhere in some other room, somebody unseen moving about across his home. Maybe a wife. Maybe a child. He looks both young enough to be unmarried, and old enough to be a father. “Some voyagers passed through here hoping to bank off some legend they’d heard about. I didn’t have any reason to deny them access, so I lent them a guide and when they came back they got all secretive. Musta told, once they got back to where they came from.”

He’s got sharp, golden eyes. When Kankuro glances at his sister, the man seems to catch it.

“I don’t care what you do,” he says, crossing his arms. “Just don’t desecrate that cave. It’s been there longer than we have. Fresh water filters through there. We depend on it. And so we respect it. You need to do the same.”     

“Our village didn’t send us,” Temari feels the need to clarify, holding up one hand. “We were contracted by another. They only asked for a certain amount. That’s all we’ll take.”

He stokes the fire sitting in a pit at the center of the room. It’s low, and in all possibility he may be intending to eat soon. “You’re looking for a guide,” he surmises, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet.

“And a place to stay the night,” Kankuro interjects, and then quickly amends when Temari gives him a look. “Or we could camp out, it’s fine.”

“There’s room,” the man dismisses with a wave of his hand. “I’ll offer you what I have, but you’ll have to choose the guide.”

At their perplexed looks, the man gives a defeated sigh.

“It’s ritualistic,” he says, turning his hands up toward the ceiling. “There used to be this belief that having outsiders choose laid the foundations of their trip, and in turn decides the outsiders’ fates. If the choice is fortuitous, so too would the outcome. It’s an old wives’ tale at this point, but it’s important to my people and it’s my second condition.”

“That’s fine,” Temari says, straightening. “Is there a third?”

He considers this, scratching at his right ear. It’s mangled at the shell, as if it’d been bitten off by an animal. “Don’t pick the shaman kid.”

She exchanges glances with her brothers. “Why?”

“Bad luck,” he says, although this seems to ring strange. “The kid’s training to be a shaman for a reason. Spirits follow her like a plague, and, to be perfectly honest, the other villagers don’t completely trust her for it.”

.x.

They hold a sort of feast in welcome, there at the center of the village. Tables are assembled at the middle and the dishes are brought out from individual homes. At one end, their young chief sits with his equally young wife and lifts his cup in their direction, just beside him. On the other end, some old woman strikes some stone against another and the villagers clink their cups hard enough to slosh their drinks into the each other. The pork is fresh made, some pig had been caught the other day and here it sits roasted to perfection.

Her brothers eat ravenously and Temari leans toward the young chief to ask, “When’s the earliest we can go?”

His wife replies, instead, “Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

She’s beautiful, soft at the face and with eyes like honey. Much smaller than her lanky husband, but undoubtedly commanding in presence. She folds a gentle hand over his to settle him, and immediately he redirects his attention. She is far too good for him, at first glance. Where he is rugged and intimidating, she is sweet and warming. But they fit a balance, and without ever raising her voice she speaks over him. Offsetting him.

“Why not with us?” she asks, before Temari can say anything. “We have space.”

“I figured the inn,” the chief says, not quite disagreeing.

“We have space,” she repeats, and that’s that.

.x.

Morning comes sooner than they’d like. The hike had been more exhausting than they’d anticipated, combined with the enormous meal and the private baths offered to them they hadn’t stood a chance. Of course, the first of them to rise is the youngest. Temari cracks open her eyes as he opens up the windows to the early sun, and can’t help the scowl she makes in response.

“The village is awake,” Gaara informs her. “We’re allowed to go out and find a guide.”

“What about breakfast,” Kankuro croaks from under his blankets.

“There’s some in the kitchen,” Gaara replies, stepping around them. “I already ate.”

They pack their things but leave the bags in the room. There’s no telling if they’ll be leaving today, how much preparation their guide will need. Outside, there are already children playing under the sun. Farmers embarking on their trek back down the side of the mountain. Some people sit in front of their homes braiding baskets, others tend to their small gardens. There is no worry here.

It is a peaceful existence.

They find the chief around the side of his home, scraping clean some pots in an outer sink. There are pieces of unfinished furniture around him, perhaps a crib in the making. He glances up at them as they approach, twisting shut the faucet and wiping his hands on a rag.

“How do we go about this?” Temari asks, breaking off first. “Do we just—go up to whoever we want?”

“Anyone within reason,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Nobody too old or young to make the journey. They know why you’re here. You’ve got the whole village at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” Temari says after a moment. “For this. We’ll be out of your way as soon as possible.”

He only shrugs. “There isn’t much excitement here. They’re just as eager to help.”

“How many of you know the layout?”

“We all do. It’s a rite of passage here to climb the top of the mountain. ‘Round the age of thirteen, we get to see the cave for ourselves.”

Temari returns to her brothers with only half a plan. “I’m giving us an hour to decide on this. Nobody over the age of fifty for practicality’s sake. As far as I’ve been made aware, the people with the freshest memory are in their early teens. That, or anyone with children in their early teens. If we come to an agreement, that’s the one we choose. We don’t have all the time in the world to investigate every single person here. As soon as we pick, we get going. Got it?”

.x.

It takes less than an hour. Many of the people fitting the qualifications are farmers, off to harvest their crops miles down. They’re mostly left with the young, and of those half are attending lectures for the day. Temari narrows it down to five, and when she gathers them up to question she finds herself coming up empty-handed. One of the conditions she gives is the ability to handle themselves in the wilderness; self-sufficiency is key here. Most of these children have never stepped foot outside of this village without adult supervision.

“Is there,” Temari says, rubbing at her temples, “ _anyone_ else?”

“I saw someone,” Gaara pipes up, nodding toward the path leading toward the cliff side. “They looked young.”

They’re further down the path, a small figure ambling toward the last home nearest the cliff’s edge. They carry a large clay pot, perhaps filled with fresh water for how much they struggle with it. Of the three, Kankuro is the first to hurry forward to catch the other end before it can angle too far to the side.

It’s difficult to discern their gender. Taller than Gaara, with close cropped hair and heavily cloaking robes. They have warm brown skin and pale hair. It is moments before they lift their eyes, mumbling thanks to the boy supporting the other end of the pot. When they do, they find Temari’s first. They are a startling blue, and in that moment Temari feels a strange chill down her spine.

If she’d believed in the sort of thing, she would have immediately known just _who_ this is.

They’re just shy of the hour mark Temari gave them.

They choose to assume this is a boy they’re speaking to. The voice is low but not as low as her brothers’, the gait neutral and unaffected. Nothing about them indicates femininity, even the way they sit on the porch of their home alludes nothing.

So this boy, leaving the pot of water on the porch, tells them, “I climb up there a lot. These houses don’t have running water yet, it’s still a new system in the village and it’ll take longer to dig in the pipes for it.”

“They don’t lend you water from the village?” Kankuro asks.

“To the closer houses,” the boy replies, nodding toward the other homes back the way they came. “But that’s mostly because they’ve got little ones there. They’re young families, they take priority. It’s only me and my father here. I’m old enough to collect from the stream now, I don’t wanna be too much bother.”

“You’ve been to the cave?” Temari asks, folding her arms.

“Of course,” the boy says with a shrug. “Lots of times. The best water comes from there.”

She glances at both her brothers. “Do you know why we’re here?”

.x.

“Call me Gin,” he tells them, standing from his place on the porch. “I just need to pack a bag and tell my father I’ll be going.”

“Right,” Temari sighs, wiping her hands on her skirt. “We’ll head back to get our things. Do we meet you back here?”

Gin shakes his head, moving toward the door. “Meet me at the mouth of the trail. We’ll get going immediately.”

The chief is turning over the soil in someone else’s garden when they find him again, packs on hand, to inform him they found a guide. He leans back on his haunches to squint up at them. After a moment of silence, he stands up with a grunt. “Take some food for the road.”

“Ah—we shouldn’t,” Temari says, holding up her hands.

“I’m not the one offering.”

His wife had collected dishes from various villagers, packed them a bag, and left it with her husband before heading out for her shop down the mountain with the farmers. He hands it off to Temari, who hands it off to Kankuro, and sends them on their way.

“Remember my conditions,” he reminds them, folding his arms. “There’s been irreparable damage before, by people we’ve chosen to trust. If it comes back to me you’ve done something you shouldn’t have, I’m gonna make damn sure none of you ever step foot in that place again.”

Kankuro leans into Temari’s space as they walk away. “Does he mean that?”

“Of course he does,” she hisses back. “Just, don’t touch anything when we get there. That goes for the _both_ of you.”

.x.

They don’t wait long. Gin hurries toward them as soon as he catches sight of them, standing at the trail’s end as promised. He carries a bag on his back, strapped by a thin string across the torso. The cloak he’s chosen nearly drags on the floor, the hood long and draping down his back. He has a walking staff, cut from a sturdy wood and warped at the neck.

“Thanks for waiting. He had a few requests,” Gin explains.

The trail is well worn, the grass growing away from it at a thin line. The incline is not yet steep, the further up they go the harder it will be to walk. Stones begin to sprout from under the ground at varying shapes and sizes, but it remains as verdant the whole way through. There are trees growing from every gap they possibly can, and before the sun sank beyond the horizon the trail had led them into a sort of forest.

“We’re gonna follow the arrowheads from here,” Gin informs them, pointing out the metal shards embedded in the tree barks. “They’ll take us out toward the edge. We’ll have better visibility then.”

“Where do we set up for the night?” Temari asks, falling into step beside him. “We were told it would take a little while to get there.”

“We can get there by the end of today,” Gin says, glancing between arrowheads. “But if we stay out for the night, it’s best to stay out of the woods.”

“Why?” Kankuro cuts in from the back. The formation they’ve taken is lopsided. They allow Gin to take the lead, with the other boys lagging around the back. There’d been mention of missing lunch but Temari is determined to cover as much ground as possible.

“The, uh, seal they put on this cave falls over most of this area of the mountain. There’s no way of getting to it without passing through here. It has the habit of making outsiders lose their way, particularly around here. If we stay out in the open, it won’t affect you so much.”

“ _Can_ we get there today?” Temari presses on.

“Yes and no,” Gin replies, angling his staff away from himself. “We’ll reach the location by day’s end. But we can’t enter the cave at night.”

At their perplexed looks, Gin gives a wry smile.

“The seal lets up under daylight.”

.x.

It is well past nightfall by the time they reach what Gin tells them is the mouth of the cave. It looks nothing more than the opening to another forest, framing the edges of a well-worn path. Hardly any stone. Only the gentle slope of the mountain nearing its top. Here, Gin asks them to set up camp for the night. He sits himself on a flattened boulder a little ways off, rifling through his bag for a small knife to slice an apple he had picked earlier in their trip.

He declines to join their meal, and when asked why he simply says, “I can’t eat meat right now.”

Temari chalks it up to religion, turning over the wood in their little fire wordlessly as her younger brother fires off needless questions. When they turn in for the night, Gin mentions needing to be up before the sun rises in order to continue on. He doesn’t set up a tent, or lay out a mat to sleep on. He stays on his chosen boulder and watches the fire die out silently as they fall asleep.

Gaara lies on his side, his back to the other boy. A cricket is singing from somewhere in the dark, a sliver of a moon weakly painting the leaves. He blinks, vaguely tired from the day, and doesn’t immediately react when Gin speaks up.

“You don’t sleep?”

The wording is strange. He doesn’t answer right away, searching the darkness under the ferns for that cricket. Still singing. “I have...a form of insomnia,” he says, carefully considering his response. There are only so many ways to explain this.

Gin, too, doesn’t speak right away. A very long, very pregnant silence stretches between them. Gaara’s almost certain that is a reply in and of itself, knowing and unsurprised. “I see,” Gin says, slowly. “Same here. So to speak. It comes and goes.”

Gaara doesn’t say anything, mouth snapped shut as he waits for him to continue.

“Do you wanna see something weird?”

Gin leads him through the undergrowth, reassuring that they can and will find their way back to his siblings. Ordinarily it’d be too dark to see, the moon does very little to light the way. But Gin doesn’t lead him very far, ducking under drooping branches and holding them aside for him to pass through. Around this particular bend is the stream the chief had mentioned before, filtered out from what he supposes is the cave. It falls down an opening in the rocks higher up, and creates a small pool before trickling out through another, smaller opening.

“That’s not the weird part,” Gin says when Gaara turns to look at him. “I learned about this when I was real little, the very first time I came here. Back then, a lot of the other kids still couldn’t see the cave so they either couldn’t see what I saw, or they didn’t believe I could see it at all. You know how kids are. They’ll trust almost anyone, but they’re also deeply suspicious.”

Gaara does know. It’s a part of childhood he’s painfully familiar with. He just doesn’t confirm this.

“The water in the cave has special properties, though I can’t say for sure what they are. I haven’t figured that out myself.” Gin moves toward the water, crouching down at its bank. “This water is the closest source, so it reacts kind of the same.”

He extends his left arm, tapping the tip of his middle finger against the water. The moon had been reflecting off it, pale against its dark, gently rippling surface. Upon contact, the water begins to glow—a brilliant blue like that of the sky. Brighter, even.

There are fish, long and slender silhouettes at its center. They glide through the water in circles, never quite touching. Gaara watches them, and knows Gin is in turn watching him. Gauging his reaction.

For as long as Gin keeps his finger in the water, the glow doesn’t fade. Gaara can’t tear his eyes away, and he can’t explain why. It stretches toward the stream trickling out toward the edge, and fades as it spills down. He traces back toward the opening in the rocks, where it glows even brighter. If at all possible.

And then, just like that, Gin retracts his hand. The light dies out, and Gaara has to blink a few times to adjust his eyesight.

It is so desperately dark without it.

“I don’t know what that is,” Gin tells him, shaking the wet from his hand and pushing himself up to stand. “But, apparently, only certain people can see it.”

Gaara furrows his brow.

“You already know outsiders can’t see the cave until they’re already inside. That’s just how it works; the seal acts as a barrier all outside of the cave.”

Gin allows a beat to pass, turning toward the water again. He takes Gaara’s silence as answer enough.

“They usually tell outsiders that all of the villagers can see it, but that’s not completely true. Most have to unlearn the affects, overcome them. It’s not easy. That’s why you have to start young. The barrier targets the mind, kinda like a…genjutsu. I think they’re called. Ordinarily, in a shinobi’s case, you can make the right hand signs and deactivate it. But not always. Whoever made the seal made it so that the source is hard to pinpoint. It might be in the cave, it might be out here. It might be at the bottom of the mountain, infecting everyone who unknowingly crosses it.”

Gaara shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Gin runs one palm over the tiny bristles of hair on his head, sighing.

“This isn’t a genjutsu, if you’re wondering,” Gin guesses correctly. “They call it spiritual, and it’s selective. Only a fraction of the outsiders that come here can see this pond, and only a fraction of that can see the cave itself.”

Gaara’s mouth feels dry. He doesn’t know where Gin is going with this.

Gin looks at him straight on, searching his face. “I’m supposing you can’t see the cave.”

.x.


	2. Mural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have an excuse for taking this long to update

The entrance of the cave shimmers into focus at the very last second, just as the sun is beginning to rise. Its ceiling sits high, the light streaming in from outside only reaching so far before it’s swallowed by darkness. From here, the world is set back into place. The location of the cave is less obscured than the seal would suggest. It faces out east, right into the morning sun, and overlooks miles upon miles of farmland. There are no carvings on the wall, except for natural imperfections. Sound carries well, their very breaths echoed back to them.

“How far is the site?” Temari asks, almost in a whisper. It is still far too loud. It makes her brothers jump.

“Mile in,” Gin says, reaching into his bag. He doesn’t bother quieting his own voice. “There’s this sort of trench we have to climb down to get to it. But from there it’s not hard to find.”

He snaps something in his hands, some sort of glow stick an off yellow in color. It does very little to light their way, but this seems to be the intention.

“It’s built to die out fast,” Gin explains, no doubt feeling their stares. “We won’t be needing it long.”

It does enough to guide them through. The cave doesn’t follow a straight line by any sense of the word, there are dips and turns and they’re forced to place more trust in Gin’s memory than they’re readily comfortable with.

“Is this okay with you?” Kankuro asks in a hush, perhaps not having noticed Gaara’s discomfort before and mistaking it for something else entirely now that he has. “I know it’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I’m fine,” Gaara says, frowning.

“Just wanna get it over with, huh,” Temari guesses at. “Same here. This isn’t much of a challenge.”

They are three quarters of a mile in, the halls have grown so narrow they cannot move as a group any longer. They follow in a line, squinting through the ever increasing darkness as the glow stick begins to die. As soon as it does, they are thrown into a pitch black so thick they cannot make out their own hands.

“Gin,” Temari calls out, reaching out to grasp at the area he’d just been only to come up empty-handed. “Gin?”

“I’m here,” he assures, a little ways off. His voice bounces off the walls sharply, and Temari has to steady herself against the stone. Unwilling to lose her bearings. “Just—hold on a second.”

It takes less than that, something shudders through the air around them before the darkness begins to lift. Something white at first, and then notably blue. Unseen crystals embedded in the walls at every turn, glowing. Gin stands a few yards away with a hand flattened to one, face unreadable.

“Sorry,” he says, not removing his hand. “I had to make sure we were in the right place.”

“Is this what we’re looking for?” Kankuro asks, hesitantly tapping his fingers against one crystal. It’s cool to the touch.

“No,” Gin replies, nodding over his shoulder further down the way. “These can’t be dug out, they’re rooted in too deep. Besides, they’re worthless. Once they’re not connected to the cave, they can no longer glow. They just become…rocks.”

They continue on, the path becoming clearer the larger the crystals grow. Eventually, it becomes clear what Gin means. Some crystals take up whole walls, and others lay half hidden underneath. He keeps one hand against the wall from that point on, only demonstrating once what would happen if he doesn’t; the crystals grow dark and they fall into that pitch black from before.

They come upon the trench Gin had mentioned before, and as the two older siblings venture forward to begin their climb down, Gaara comes near to ask, “Do these crystals hold the same property as the water?”

“More or less,” Gin says, anchored to this section of the wall until they make their return. “They’re reactive.”

“Where is the source?”

Gin looks at him, for a moment, and then jerks his head toward a large crack in the wall just meters away. “Through there. But, as you can see, it’s displaced from your target area. If you’re curious to know what sits beyond, you’d be forced to abandon your objective. At least for the moment.”

Gaara only stares back, uncertainty coloring his features.

“It’s a very, very long walk.”

His siblings call him toward the trench, and he decides to drop the subject.

“What’s bothering you?” Kankuro asks, as soon as Gaara joins them.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Temari has moved on to the tunnel just off the trench, where within an entirely separate, inexplicable light illuminates the treasure found within. Priceless gems scatter its floor, line its walls end to end. They gleam prettily, reflecting onto Temari’s clothes like gold as she tiptoes along carefully.

“Nothing important,” he says, turning back to his brother. “I think we should have asked more questions…before choosing our guide.”

“Yeah, he’s a little off.” Kankuro folds his arms thoughtfully. “Doesn’t eat meat. Doesn’t seem to—did he sleep last night?”

“An hour,” Gaara replies truthfully.

“Did he…do anything weird during that time?”

“No,” Gaara lies, this time.

“Good. Well.” Kankuro scratches behind his head through his hood. “I can’t tell his age, but he doesn’t look any older than you. It can’t be good for him to be eating and sleeping so little.”

“Hand me a bag,” Temari instructs from down the way. “We’re looking to fill four before day’s end.”

They set to work, deciding against the tools provided to them for picking the jewels out under the prerequisite the chief had given them. They will do no harm, and leave with no more than they came for.

“Could anyone make the crystals glow like that up there?” Kankuro asks, lifting a hand up toward what he thinks may be a source to the brightness down _here_.

“Seems to be exclusive,” Temari says, inspecting what appears to be a ruby in the light. “I tried touching one when he pulled his hand off. Nothing happened.”

“Is he making these one’s glow, too?”

“Hard to tell.”

Kankuro hums. “Shouldn’t he be watching us a little more closely? I mean, if he wants us to respect the chief’s requests—he can’t possibly trust us this much, I don’t care how young he is.”

Temari pauses, sliding her gaze from one boy to the next. “Does it seem quiet to you?”

She has a point. Sound carries terribly well in this cave.

“Is he still there?”

Kankuro is quicker to move, climbing the trench’s walls until he can see over its edge. He clicks his tongue. “Gone.”

Temari fixes her fan back onto her back with a sigh. “We’re gonna have to split up. The seal shouldn’t affect us now that we’re in.”

“Uh,” Kankuro cuts in, glancing back at them. “The crystals are still glowing.”      

“Do you think he tricked us?” Temari asks, voice rising some.

“Why would he?”

Temari paces back and forth, thinking quick. “Didn’t the chief ask us to stay away from one of them?”

“The shaman kid, right?” Kankuro fills in, dropping back down to them. “Don’t they usually wear body paint and talk to spirits?”

“Not necessarily.”

“He is kinda weird,” Kankuro muses, rubbing at his chin. “But he just looks like a regular kid.”

“It sounded like the chief said _she_ ,” Gaara murmurs.

“I didn’t see a she.”

“I,” Temari says, abruptly. “I couldn’t tell, truth be told. When we first saw him.”

“Alright—benefit of the doubt. The chief said girl, and Gin isn’t a girl. Therefore Gin isn’t the shaman kid. We don’t know who Gin is and by that logic, we don’t know he isn’t a lying thief, brought us to this faux treasure trove, and went off to the real one.”

“And if Gin _is_ the shaman?”

“Then she’s a doing a real good job at pretending she isn’t.”

Gaara leads them through the crack in the wall, completely disregarding Temari’s earlier plan of splitting up. He doesn’t doubt Gin made his way through here. The crystals are still activated, and this doesn’t follow. He glances up and down the walls uneasily, trying to wrap his mind around it. If what Gin had showed him the night before meant anything, and if the crystals held the same properties as the pond, then without direct contact with Gin they would no longer be glowing.

It stands to reason Gin is still in contact with them, one way or another.

The crack has no explanation, the stone is thick and cool and it is a while before they reach the other end. The crystals are more scattered here, their positions betraying nothing by way of this cavern’s sheer size. Kankuro stoops to pick a loose pebble from the ground, tosses it hard toward the other side, and doesn’t make it. The pebble skitters to a stop long before reaching anything. The crystals sit in a broken circle, some sunken into the ground and others angled against the natural walls. None of them sit in the ceiling. They can only guess.

“Pointless,” Temari scoffs, reaching into her pack for a standardized glow stick.

An emblem sits above this corridor, at the furthermost left hand side of the cavern. It isn’t familiar, neither a character they can recognize nor a figure they can make sense of. A half circle, with raised dots completing the rest of it. A symbol sitting at its middle. They don’t spend much time trying to decipher, moving in a loose formation through the corridor with their sister at the lead.

Gaara works as the shield, the furthest back but with the quickest reflexes. Should anything happen, the sand will encircle them. They are all three most comfortable with long distance—this is something of a disadvantage against the most physical of opponents.

Nobody drops their guard.

The crystals become sparse, and then thicken as they approach the end of the corridor. Temari snuffs the glow stick, falling behind Kankuro as he unwinds one puppet.

This will work as a diversion.

There is no telling they’ll need it.

.x.

It takes a moment to recognize the marks on the wall for what they are. The corridor opens up into an enormous area, this time amply lit up by the crystals. Scattered in every direction and with a more detectable pattern. They follow these lines on the ground in a spiral, tight at its center. At each corner, tall, thin slabs of crystals protrude from the ground in groups of threes. This appears more manmade, and for the first time it is undeniable that the cave had at one time been inhabited by people. There are long, low steps leading down to the center of the room, where that spiral ends. And benches right up against the walls. Columns. Decorations carved into the walls so smoothly it cannot possibly be natural.

There is a mural, made up of chalky paint that doesn’t come off when they reach out to touch. Whites and grays and black hues. They have to step back, and then back again, until they are forced to stand nearest the spiral, to be able to see the picture clearly for how large it really is.

Symbols, drawn in such a way they make up a face.

“Looks like the makings of a cult,” Kankuro says, without much weight.   

“The chief mentioned their water came from somewhere in here,” Gaara brings up, turning a full circle. There are no visible openings.

“Didn’t Gin mention coming up here often?” Temari takes the bait, glancing between them. “To _get_ water?”

Nobody knows what to do with this information.

“Alright. This time _split up_. We need to find the way to that water.”

It doesn’t take very long, but the discovery is disheartening. An opening at the highest point over the pillars, so small none of them could possibly fit through with their weapons of choice. The only way Gin could have gotten up there is the miniscule imperfections up the wall, and this in itself doesn’t explain the transfer of water from one place to the next.

“We’re at a disadvantage,” Temari says, reaching into her bag for the wireless receivers. “One of us will have to stay behind to act as lookout.”

“And how do we decide that?”

“Gaara can’t do without his sand,” Temari sighs, and then smiles apologetically at her youngest brother. “You’ve only just gotten serious about your hand-to-hand.”

“I’d prefer to go,” Gaara says, with a frown. “Gin had a short conversation with me last night. I want to ask a few things.”

Temari blinks. This is news to her.

“Alright, Gaara goes,” Kankuro waves off. “Who stays?”

Temari allows Gaara in before her.

There is a heavy sense of discomfort without their things. A lightness they don’t instinctively trust. Temari has a small pack of weapons strapped to the small of her back, more prepared for this kind of situation. The tunnel goes on for some time and during which, Temari feels inclined to ask a few questions.

“What happened last night?”

“Gin told me…he has insomnia,” Gaara replies, trying to recall all of it. Being unable to sleep can confuse the days; he almost can’t remember if it happened last night or this morning. “He took me to this pond and showed me, like with the crystals, that it glows when he touched it.”

Temari waits a moment, and then asks, “That’s it?”

Gaara shrugs noncommittally.

She hums, working with this despite. “I guess it was out of boredom. The chief did say there isn’t much excitement around here. Gin must have showed you because it was something to do.”

Gaara hadn’t considered this.

The end of the tunnel is pale. The area on the other side is equally as enormous as the one before, but this one stands deteriorating. Whole chunks of cavern wall are broken off, through which thick rays of early afternoon sun spill. It renders the remaining crystals pointless. Trees from outside poke their branches in, their leaves rustling with the gentle breeze rolling in and out aimlessly between holes. The stone here is covered in a fine layer of dirt, the split sections of the ground broken into by vines, pushing their way in.

They land soundlessly, with Temari reaching smoothly into her pack for a knife. It is immediately apparent that Gin is not here. But from the cool draft coming from under the gaps in the floor they figure they’ve come across the source of the water. Temari kneels down to feel around the stone curiously shaped like a panel, preparing to move it aside.

“There’s an easier way,” Gaara says, moving forward. “Gin couldn’t have moved it alone.”

Temari pauses, lifting her knife away.

“We’re giving Gin the benefit of the doubt,” Gaara paraphrases, tracing the holes in the wall with his eyes. “But Gin is still my age, and he’s just a regular kid. He can’t have moved it—but there has to be a way he’s taking the water back to his home. There has to be another way into it we’re not seeing.”

Temari scans the room thoughtfully, and then hesitates. “Do you think there’s a reason this room mimics the last?”

He stops to look at her.

“There’s that spiral, like before.” She pushes herself up to stand. “If this place used to be home to a civilization, the people must have wanted to protect their precious water source from outsiders—with misdirection.”

Gaara frowns, and then turns to look at the wall opposite the sun. Another mural, the colors washed away with exposure. He carefully moves toward the center of the room as Temari speaks, trying to get a better look.

“Of course, the years have worn the place thin. The villagers must have gotten desperate for water centuries ago, and made themselves an opening to the water. What used to be the perfect misdirection is transparent now. I’m assuming the way to the water is using those spirals as a stairwell—they lower down with applied pressure—”

“Do those eyes look familiar?” Gaara interrupts, and waits until Temari joins him to point them out.

“That’s…” Temari trails off, confusion falling over her expression.

The face in the mural is easier to make out. The chalk shines in such a way Gaara doubts it was meant to be seen any other way. The grays turn brown, the white to silver, and the dark of the eyes reflects an icy blue.

“Gin.”

.x.

Temari is right. The spiral responds to pressure, the center sinks and sinks and eventually separates into steps. But once past the ground it is a useless discovery. There is a large opening chipped away by years of human effort, a jaggedly curved entranceway through which both rubble and overgrown forest are visible. This entire underground is made up of a massive lake, a single platform onto which this spiral staircase deposits them, and the occasional slab of stone leading away from it in any direction.

It is absolutely glowing, brightest where the sun hits it and darkest the further is stretches into the cave. Eerie, if not for the birdsong just outside. And the long, slender fish gliding untouched in the lake.

Gin is sitting on a separate platform nearest the opening, soaking his feet in the water. His staff lies beside him, out of reach, and he’s shed his bag and outer cloak. It is impossible to tell what expression he wears from this distance, but Temari wastes no time moving to confront him.

Gin speaks first, unwittingly diffusing the situation. “They don’t really let us into that part of the cave,” he says, staring down at his palms. “It’s not accessible from the outside, and there was this seal on that door. No matter how many times I tried to figure it out, I couldn’t break it.”

“The… The symbol?” Temari asks, recalling the marking over the first entrance they passed.

“The villagers were noticing I was going up there a lot—you’re right, they did offer me water. Lots of water.” Gin flexes his fingers. “So I wouldn’t come up here.”

A confused silence stretches on between them. Gaara still cannot make sense of his ramblings.

“This was my last chance, I think. I was really glad you guys asked for my help—someone came looking for me last time I was here, and I was so close to breaking the seal…” Gin sighs, lifting one leg to flick the water from his foot. “Sorry, if it seemed I was lying to you. I didn’t…think it would matter to you why I was here.”

Gin looks at them.

“Why’d you come looking for me?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You came here for the gems, didn’t you? You knew the way back out.”

“You could’ve told us you had your own objective,” Temari snaps, finally finding some ground. “And what is this? What’s with the—?”

“Why do you speak of that village,” Gaara interrupts, “as if you’re not one of them?”

Gin’s brow furrows, it is a moment before he answers at all. “They treat me like an outsider. Turned me into a pariah. I always thought it was because I didn’t look like any of them, and then later because I saw things none of them did. They put me in the house furthest away and expected me to keep to myself. And the cave, they said, was off-limits to me. But all the other kids got to see it. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t, back then.”

Gin drops his foot back into the water.

“There was this story the chief told me once—and the chief, he and his pretty wife have always been nice to me; the old one didn’t used to be, and I guess that’s why he’s gotta treat me like this now—but he told me this story once about the people of the mountain. Not these people. Not the ones that made that village. But the people that buried their past in the cave and lived under the moon, that they looked just like me.” Gin runs a palm over his bristly hair. “I guess it was a hint.”

“So the paintings,” Temari mumbles, hushed now. “An ancestor?”

Gin shrugs, drifting his feet back and forth in the water.

“You’re the shaman kid,” Temari presses on, not entirely expecting an answer. It goes without saying at this point.

“Yeah,” Gin says. “You can call me that.”

.x.

Catching Kankuro back up to speed, once they make it back to him, is the most difficult thing about this. Gin swings down behind the siblings, lands on the balls of her feet, and is immediately cornered for questions.

“How’d you get the crystals to glow without you?” he asks, leaning in. “How’d you get the crystals to glow _at all_?”

It’s something to do with the spiritual connection Gin has with the mountain, or something along those lines. The villagers would have relied on torches to find their way through, which seems to the siblings a more barbaric method in comparison. Switching it on and off isn’t easy, with as much practice as Gin’s been allowed, but maintaining it once it’s activated is. The properties in the lake would do the rest.

“Bioluminescence, for the most part,” Gin explains, lifting her hands. “The lake has deposits all throughout, completely harmless. Some say they’re spirits, and I just connected to them.”        

“How’d you figure out you’re a shaman?” Kankuro asks, and then, more mildly, “Are you a girl?”

“I don’t know,” Gin replies, defensively. Not quite answering either question.

“Stop that,” Temari cuts him off before he can continue. “This put us hours behind. We need to hurry up, meet our quota, and get out.”

“In all likelihood,” Gin says as they find their way back to the trench, “they’re gonna be waiting for me back at the village. And they’re not gonna be happy.”

“You made us break one of the chief’s conditions,” Kankuro points out.    

“I wouldn’t worry about the chief.”

They work quick from there, with Gin’s additional hand in. Four bags, one each, with the goal to fill them before day’s end. It doesn’t take long, but the bags are understandably heavy. Moving them out of the trench is the real challenge, from there they need only travel back out the labyrinth of the cave to their previous campsite. And, once past the entrance of the cave, the strange feeling of having a curtain fall over them returns.

It is late afternoon, and so they sit down for a short meal.

“You don’t eat meat because you’re shaman,” Kankuro says, putting two and two together.

“I can eat it,” Gin says, peeling an orange. Opting to squat nearby them rather than take up the stone that is no longer visible to them. “But I have to go through the ritual of hunting, sending their spirit off, and then burying the bones after I’ve finished the meat. It’s time consuming, and I’m not big enough to be doing it every time. At least, not with the animals that are worth the effort.”

“You’ll get there,” Kankuro assures, sitting back against a new tree with grease on his face. “You’ve still got _years._ Look at Gaara—believe it or not, he used to be smaller.”

Gin flicks the skin from her fingertips, but doesn’t respond.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive,” Temari says, setting aside her plate. “But it sounds to me these people erased yours.”

“I don’t know if that’s true or not,” Gin replies after a moment, picking a slice from the orange. “So whether it’s insensitive or not, I can’t say for sure. I just know I don’t belong there, and wherever I used to belong isn’t here anymore. Maybe they’re still around and just migrated away. Maybe I just got left behind.”

The climb down is much quicker, although Gin notably falls behind more than once. There is much still left unanswered for Gin, but all of it has been so completely wiped away there is no means to answer any of it. There is nowhere to go from here. The cave has been invaded time and time again, there’s no way they’ve left anything else for Gin to find—if the villagers are as determined to purge the evidence as she says.

There is a lethargy to Gin’s movements.

Temari clicks her tongue, hefting the bag higher. “Don’t put on that face.”

For a few long moments, Gin doesn’t bother responding. They are coming upon the outer path, just along the edge. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act,” Gin mumbles, and Temari immediately regrets saying anything at all.

She’s never been much at comforting.

It was never necessary. Neither of her brothers seek it, and it isn’t a skill she can afford to cultivate given the life she leads. Temari isn’t sure what would be appropriate to say here. None of them are sensitive enough to hear Gin out, and none of them have the right words to respond with. With their mission a little more than halfway complete, and with no purpose on this mountain any longer, they have no reason to help Gin out of this ordeal.

Because it’s an ordeal now, and they’ve unintentionally become some part of it.

The sun is on the verge of setting, the scenery is beginning to look familiar, and by the time Gin speaks again they are close enough to see the village lights through the trees below. Dragging a palm over the top of her head and digging the end of her staff into the ground, Gin gives a long sigh.

“It makes sense, some of the older ones seemed to have it out for me,” she says, scratching. “I got into a lot of trouble when I was little—all kids do, but the punishments for me were always so much…worse. They made me shave my head once for disrupting the quiet. And then again for disobeying.”

Temari glances at her brothers, unsettled. “How…recent was that?”

“Not very,” Gin admits, dropping her hand. “I just decided to leave it like that, so that they couldn’t threaten it anymore. Though I guess all that’s left is to cut my fingers and toes—or my tongue. If that’s a thing.”

“It’s a thing,” Kankuro says, and then attempts to amend, “I mean, I’m pretty sure it isn’t. Here.”

“If the chief is so kind to you,” Temari cuts in, deciding against allowing him to continue speaking, “then why doesn’t he protect you from them? Or give you better…living arrangements?”

“He has a family to think of. There’s a baby on the way, he can’t focus on leading the village, raising a family, _and_ taking care of me,” Gin replies. “Besides, I’m old enough to fend for myself. I think that if I left now, I’d be alright out there. It’s just…the thought of leaving my entire life behind is somewhat…frightening, I guess.”

“Old enough,” Kankuro snorts, and when she looks at him he continues, “You’re only thirteen. Nobody would take you serious out there—you’d be an urchin.”

Gin gives him an odd look. “I’m sixteen.”

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> So I think Gaara's like 4'8" (148 cm) at the age of thirteen. Gin is like, 5' (155ish cm). If, you're like me and you wanna know the exact height difference. That's like, what, four inches in difference?
> 
> I'll post when I can, let me know what you think.


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